


May I?

by thefraserwitch



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Complete, F/M, ace!Isobel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 08:44:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15115868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefraserwitch/pseuds/thefraserwitch
Summary: For The Lallybroch Library's Queerlander Prompt Exchange: Isobel and John Grey’s non-conventional relationship through the years, told from Isobel's POV.





	May I?

“Careful, Willie!” I called from outside the corral.

 

With a gentle flick of his leg, my nephew - _my son,_ I mentally corrected myself - urged his horse from a steady walk to a speedy trot. Willie had taken ill the week before, and with him so newly recovered, I did not want him to push himself too hard. He was such a sturdy little boy - always strong, capable, and steady - but he was all I had left of Geneva. An errant twig snapped beneath the horse’s hoof, and I could’ve sworn it was my heart breaking at the memory of her.

 

_I’ll protect him, dear sister. I promise. I leaned on the fence for support, and the wooden rail scratched my arms with errant slivers._

 

I arched my back and turned my face towards the sun in hopes that the gentle light of early Spring would soothe away my tears. Mother would admonish that my casual posture was not at all fit for a lady of my standing, but I didn’t care. We were at home with the spacious grounds to provide plenty of privacy; there was no need to put on airs or false pretenses.

 

_We were free to just simply be._

 

I returned my attentions to Willie, and he nodded to me, his eyes narrowing to cat-like slits and the corner of his mouth tilted up in a devious smirk. The image of Mac the groom flooded my memories, and rocked me to my very core, causing me to grip the railing a bit tighter, and a sharp splinter pierced the flesh of my palm. I pulled away, hissing at the sting of my injuries and of the ghostly recollection of Mac the Groom.

 

He was always close by. His little shadow was always within arm’s reach... the way his eyes brightly sparkled when he greeted me in the morning... the way his face flushed red and his fingers twitched against his thigh whenever something - or someone, most often my sister - tried his patience... Yes, I saw all of these traits in Willie, and it warmed my heart to see Mac’s memory carried on in such an incredible little boy.

 

_Thank you for our son, Mac. He will grown into a man you can be proud of - I will make sure of it._

 

“Listen to your mother, Willie!” a familiar voice called from behind me. The interruption jolted me from my thoughts and, brushing my dress from any stray brambles and straightening my posture, I turned to greet John properly. He was returning today after much too long absence, and I was overjoyed to see my husband again.

 

Though it still sounded strange and foreign to my ears, my heart had treasured his new title that linked us together forever from the day we’d wed, and now it skipped a beat as I caught sight of him strolling towards the corral. While his previous tone might have been stern, his demeanor betrayed him as he approached us. Beaming with pride, John’s smile lit his entire face, and his eyes shone with love for our son. He was still clad in his uniform from his travels, his red coat highlighting his trim build.

 

“Welcome home!” I said cheerfully, as my heart swelled and my mood brightened to match John’s smile.

 

“It’s good to be home,” John agreed as he approached the fence, removed his formal military gloves and hat, and offered his hand to me. “May I?”

 

It never ceased to amaze me how courteous he was with me. From the very start, John always took care to show me kindness and respect as well as love even in the first moments of our life together.

 

___________________________________

_Our Wedding Night, One Year Ago_

 

I felt as though I’d been waiting for John to join me in our wedding chambers on our wedding night. The raucous cheers and merriment of the wedding party below clamored loudly and echoed through the floorboards. The stately country manor that would become our home was filled with joy and celebration, while my heart was filled with nothing but fear. I sat on the bed and stared out the window, dreading what I knew must happen next. The mammoth expectations weighed heavily on my heart, and I had no idea how I could possibly fulfill my wifely duties.

 

A sudden knock at the door signaled my husband’s presence, and I seriously considered tossing the drapes aside and flinging myself out into the cold night air.

 

“May I come in?” my husband asked through the solid wood slab between us.

 

Jumping to my feet, I retreated to the furthest corner of the room. My fists clenched the neck of my silk dressing gown, drawing in tighter around me in an attempt to cover myself. I glanced down quickly, noting my level of modesty that I certainly was comfortable with… but how much longer could I hold on to any sense of propriety?

 

Steadying myself, I pressed my palms into the wall behind me before granting my husband entry with shaky and halting words. The door opened slowly - just wide enough for him to slip through - and he pressed it shut behind him carefully as not to make a sound. Turning around, John attempted a weak smile before walking towards me. He paused at the fireplace, studying the low burning flames in its hearth.

 

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, “I could add another log -”

 

Abruptly, my words interrupted his. _“No!”_

 

My sudden words coupled with my harsh tone caused John to falter, and he stumbled over his steps before he came to stand before me with a good few yards between us still.

 

“ _No_ ,” I said, gentler this time with a forced smile on my face as I returned to my perch on the bed. “No, that’s quite alright.”

 

Slowly, John began his pace again until he was standing before me at the edge of the bed. With an open palm, he gestured to the empty place beside me on the mattress. Nodding slowly, I swallowed hard against the large lump that had formed in my throat. I was frozen to the very spot, knowing this was only the first step off a towering precipice. I was terrified of what awaited me in the murky depths below, and I had no wings to carry me far from danger.

 

“Isobel,” John barely whispered. He sat more than an arm’s length from me, but still I found it difficult to breathe with him so close to me. “Izzy, please…”

 

The sound of my name - the pet name he’d given me when we were just children - was a welcome surprise. Innocent memories of our childhood flooded my mind, and focusing on those happy times allowed me to catch my breath. John shook his head slowly, causing an errant curl to fall loose from its queue.

 

His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he pleaded with me, “Please don’t be frightened - especially not of me.”

 

My breath still came in ragged puffs, and beads of moisture collected in the palms of my clenched hands. I was trembling - obviously so - but I couldn’t will myself to stop. I clenched my jaw so hard I swore I heard it crack to keep my teeth from rattling out of my head. My fists took hold of the embroidered coverlet to anchor myself to the bed, but my palms slick with sweat slipped against the delicate fabric. I willed myself to keep breathing before I fainted from the lack of oxygen to my brain.

 

“Isobel, are you alright?”

 

His tone as much as his words surprised me. I was his wife, and he could do with me whatever he wished. No one - not a minister or a commanding officer or even his peers - would condemn him. What were my thoughts, my feelings on any matter - especially this, our marriage bed - of any importance to him? I was merely a woman… and yet, he was still John.

 

Somehow, he was still placing my comfort above his own, my ease of mind above his basal desires.

 

John offered his hand again; his fingers played wide to reveal his open palm and - to my surprise - he was trembling too.

 

“Please, may I?”

 

I swallowed hard again, struggling against the lump at the back of my throat. I braced myself for the impending gesture, something that in basic practice was so innocent but could quickly become so much more than I wanted or was even ready for. Shrill voices - memories from my past - buzzed in my ears. First, it was Isobel with her exaggerated and fearsome nightmare of her experience with Mac; then, it was Mother with her soothing tone and gentle words that did little to calm my nerves. They had told me what my husband would want of me… what he would do to me in return.

 

_But this was John._

 

He was asking nicely and politely, wasn’t he? He could have easily taken my hand, pushed my shoulders back to lay on the bed, and been done with it already… but he hadn’t. John sought my permission, not once assuming anything of me.

 

Clearing my head of the thousands of voices in my head, I shook my head and wiped the sweat from my palms on the coverlet before I placed my hand in his. His touch was softer than a butterfly’s wings, his fingers gently brushing against mine as our palms pressed together.

 

I held my breath and waited for what was inevitably to come, anticipating an unwelcomed and forced intimacy that set my nerves on edge… but once again, John surprised me. He only held my hand, nothing more. We sat in silence, our hands clasped together in quiet companionship. I found myself relaxing as his hand warmed mine and nearly smiled as he quoted Romeo & Juliet:

 

“And palm to palm is holy palmers kiss,” his fingers gently squeezed mine as he sighed. His brow furrowed, his expression matching my own inner turmoil and pain as he began to speak from his heart.

 

“I know this marriage isn’t exactly ideal for you. Certainly, you’ve heard the rumors... ”

 

A burning blush flamed in my cheeks, as they had done many times before when I had heard the gossip about my now husband. The repeated whispers and fantastical stories could only have been created out of the boredom of empty minded ladies. Yes, I had heard the rumors, but I had never gave them much thought until now...

 

“I hoped we could find a compromise,” he continued, “One that would work for us both.”

 

John’s words confused me. I stiffened and pulled my hand away from his. Instantly, he let go, but followed me as I slid away from him.

 

“Isobel, please!” he begged, his voice cracking, “Will you listen to what I have in mind?”

 

He wasn’t trying to keep hold of me, nor was he forcing himself upon me. John was merely asking me to listen, to allow him to tell me of his mind and of his heart. I could grant him that courtesy, couldn’t I?

 

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, allowing the fresh flow of oxygen to calm my ragged nerves. When I opened my eyes, I nodded slowly and this time offered my hand to him.

 

“May I?” I asked, my voice quiet and small.

 

Blinking back tears, John nodded and took my hand in his once more. He didn’t rush into his proposal, instead, we resumed our previous silence as our breathing patterns slowly began to align as my inhale matched his. I found it comforting, sharing the same space and breath as someone else without really having to speak.

 

When John finally began to speak again, he was quiet, gentle, and unassuming.

 

“We’ve known each other since we were children, Izzy,” he whispered. At the second utterance of his special name for me, warmth flooded my limbs, melting the ice in my veins that formed from my chilling nerves. It was his name for me, and it was his alone. No one else had called me that when we were young - not even Geneva. I smiled, this time a real one, at the beloved memories of our childhood together.

 

“I consider you one of my closest friends - I hope you know that,” John continued. “I would never want to hurt you; you’re far too important to me to risk losing you in my life. What I’m offering - what I’m proposing to you - is the ultimate friendship, a true partnership of equals. All I ask from you is honesty, respect, loyalty, and chaste affection - nothing more, nothing less.”

 

John paused, allowing the true meaning of his proposal to sink in.

 

_I was completely stunned._

 

He had no intention of lying with me - not ever. He only asked for what I had already given him in return - comfortable, friendly advances that I deny or accept on my own terms. I could be honest with John in ways I could never be with anyone else. I was free to be my true self without pretense or guise. No other gentleman, no other Major of noble birth was as loyal as John. How could I not give him anything but exactly what he had offered me in return? John and I had been friends for as far back as either one of us could remember, and I had feared that our friendship would come to a bitter and painful end with the start of our marriage. Instead, I found that he had granted me my freedom by asking for his own.

 

_**We wouldn’t have to live a lie.** _

 

I turned to face him. An errant lock of hair had fallen into his eyes, and I brushed it away, allowing my hand to rest on his cheek. When he smiled, his entire face glowed with kindness, and his eyes sparkled.

 

“I think… I think I would like that arrangement very much,” I said. My voice cracked somewhere in the middle of my declaration, and I felt my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

 

John smiled wider, if that were at all possible, as he brushed a stray tear from my chin.

 

“Oh, Izzy, you are so very dear to me! You know that, don’t you?”

 

When I shook my head in response, he silenced me with a heart-stopping question.

 

“May I show you?” John asked, his brows creased in concern has his hurried words came tumbling forth, “I only mean that I would like to hold you… very much so. Though I do not wish to make you uncomfortable…”

 

He hesitated then, searching for just the right words to help me understand. He tilted his head in question, his eyes alight with question.

 

“May I?”

 

His gentle unkindness was my undoing, and I felt grateful tears prick the corners of my eyes as I agreed to this innocent request.

 

John took me into his arms and embraced me. We sat there with limbs intertwined for what felt like an eternity. He simply held me - never once trying for anything more - and he didn’t dare let go. He didn’t once try to kiss me, but he didn’t pull away either.

 

It was an act far more selfless and intimate than any other. It was the kind that connected man and wife in such a way that their souls were knit together as one, never to be torn apart, one far more rewarding and fulfilling than any of the flesh.

 

____________________________________________

 

From that moment on, John was always sensitive to my needs and always sought my permission to press a soft kiss to my brow, to embrace me gently, and even to simply hold my hand. Ever steadfast in his sincerity, he never mocked me with his request. Our marriage may be considered have unconventional by some - lacking in the passions of the flesh - but it was so much more than either of us could explain, even the few times we’d discussed it together. We had so many things that most marriages lacked: honesty, loyalty, and unfailing trust. We were each other’s best friend’s in every sense of the title, and that meant more to us than any tryst ever could.

 

I nodded as I accepted John’s offer of affection and slipped my hand into his. He bowed to me, brushing his lips against my knuckles in a chaste kiss before nestling my hand in the crook of his elbow.

 

“How was London?” I asked, not waiting for a response before adding, “How are Hal, Minnie, and the children?”

 

“Very well,” John chuckled. “Minnie sends her regards. She probably would have liked for me to stay forever, but this morning she practically shoved me out the door! She said something about me being a family man now and I shouldn’t be away from you two a moment longer.”

 

Laughter bubbled from my chest and burst from my lips at John’s terrible impression of his good sister, his voice cracking a bit as he tried to match her high pitch. We collapsed into each other in a fit of giggles, our heads bent close and our foreheads touching. Our giggles faded into comfortable silence, and John’s expression grew wistful as if he were trying to catch sight of something along the distant horizon. “

 

Is everything alright?” I whispered, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes... just as i had so many times before.

 

Blinking back a few tears, John nodded, “Yes, dear, I’m perfectly wonderful. It’s just… I hadn’t thought of it. The three of us - we’re a real family, aren’t we?”

 

_Family._

 

The word tugged at my heartstrings and brought tears to my eyes. I hadn’t imagined it either. I never thought I’d ever have a husband as caring and as kind as John. Considering the typical means and methods to have a child, I never expected to ever become a mother. So many obstacles stood in my way before, and yet I had achieved what I never thought possible. I was completely and incandescently happy.

 

Smiling tenderly, I murmured, “Yes, John, we are. We _are_ a family.”

 

“Good Lord… I never imagined I would...”

 

I playfully bumped his shoulder with my own and snuggled in a little closer, enjoying the comfort and safety of his embrace before I mumbled, “I hadn’t either…”

 

We fell quiet once more, comfortable to stand side-by-side watching our son practice his riding skills on his favorite horse. I could live this day over and over again in its perfect simplicity over and over again and never grow bored. I had a husband who cared for me and respected me. We were partners in every sense of the word, and I was so incredibly lucky to have such a marriage. We found even more common ground as parents, uniting in our sole purpose in raising our son. We were far from perfect, but when nasty gossip of John’s true nature or the lack of younger siblings for Willie reared their ugly faces, we let it bring us together rather than tearing us apart. The three of us were bound together until the end of time, and with that, the rest of the world and its harsh judgments faded away.

 

“Johnny?” I whispered after quite some time.

 

“Hmm?” John hummed in response, not once tearing his eyes away from Willie.

 

“I love you…”

 

I allowed my voice to trail off, the unanswered question to my statement hanging heavy in the air. I silently prayed he knew what I meant. I did love him and showed him often in so many ways - when I made sure the cook prepared his favorite meals when he returned home to us, when I personally stitched the holes in his elbows of his shirts - but it wasn’t they typical love every wife has for her husband. My love was different… and yet maybe even stronger without the need for us to be linked physically.

 

He turned to face me, and I knew at once he’d understood. He heard my mind as well as my heart, and his brilliant smile nearly brought me to tears. “Love you too, Izzy… may I?”

 

I nodded, and John pressed a tender kiss to my forehead before we resumed our favorite activity - spending time together as a family.


End file.
